Snakes in the Grass
by wildpeace
Summary: Sequel to 'The Last Unspoken Summer' & 'The Short Walk to the Long Goodbye' - Established TIVA, an almost-murder, a mystery, and an old friend in need. Originally posted under the name 'Waiting for my Soulmate'. Reposted and complete.
1. Barefoot toes

Title: Snakes in the Grass Title: Snakes in the Grass

Spoilers: Judgment Day, Shalom, and anything else is fair game.

A/N: This is the follow up to 'The Last Unspoken Summer' and 'The Short Walk to the Long Goodbye'. It includes original characters met in those stories, so I suggest you read them before you start on this one. I mean, you don't have to if you don't want to, but it is advisable. If you have already read them, congratulations for making your way through the deluge, and thank you for taking the time.

This fic picks up 2-3 months (approx) after the end of TSWTTLG. It is written in a slightly different style to the others, as I was aiming for a more 'case-fic/episodic' ambiance. This means more of the other characters, though do not fear, there is still plenty of TIVA. I have not strayed that far from my usual modis operandi.

All my thanks as always to G – my own personal cheerleader, and also to Cath who really stepped up to the plate on this one. Cheers ladies.

Comments and constructive criticism are always welcome.

Summary: _He feels his heartbeat race, hammering his ribs. There is a long pause, where everything seems to fade into nothingness. " I think…I think I killed him."_

_XxX_

Snakes in the Grass

Her heart pounds in her chest. Against her ribs, its tattoo feels hard enough to leave bruises, and she can hardly catch her breath. She stumbles onto the darkened street, leaning against a rough brick wall, and as she reaches up to wipe the tears from her cheeks, her hands shake. She grasps for the phone in her pocket and her trembling fingers misdial, the beeping loud despite the noises of the traffic. Fumbling, she takes a deep breath and dials again. Then she presses the phone to her ear and listens to it ring.

_Ring. _She crosses her fingers, praying someone will answer.

_Ring. _The tears begin to flow again, and she brushes her pale wrist against her cheek to move them away.

_Ring. _He has to pick up, he has to, he has to, he has to.

" Hello?"

XxX

He's confused, when he wakes up. Blinking away the haze of sleep, he rolls over, and as usual, is met with empty, cold blankets. The neon red light of the clock blinks back at him – 6am – and for a moment he wonders what woke him up. There hasn't been a sudden noise or sound; the apartment is still quiet. In fact, it takes him a moment to realise that this is what is strange. Normally, when he wakes at 6, it is to the sound of the shower running in the adjoining bathroom, and he drags his body out of bed to go and start the morning in the best possible way: with company, and under the pelting spray. This morning, he cannot hear water at all.

Pulling himself up, he rubs at his eyes with the back of his fist. Kicking off the blankets, he swings his feet to the floor, still listening for sounds of her moving around the apartment. Maybe she is just late back from her run. The route from his apartment is different from her usual one, and despite the fact that she has been running it now, most mornings, for almost two months, maybe today she decided to try something new…

He picks a t-shirt up from the floor, pulling it on to ward off the creeping autumn crispness. He pushes open the bathroom door, but the room is definitely empty and free from steam. He catches sight of her green toothbrush laying idly on the side of the sink, and something prickles up the back of his neck, making him quicken his pace just slightly as he moves out of the bedroom.

" Ziva?"

His voice echoes through the apartment, through the space that they have shared fairly constantly for the last few months. Her black sweater is still draped over the back of the kitchen chair, and two wine glasses still stand by the sink, stained crimson with last night's libations.

" Ziva?"

The floor is solid, smooth and cool under his feet, and he shuffles quickly over the polished floorboards. As he continues wandering, calling her name over and over, he wishes for a moment that he hadn't left his gun on the nightstand. He knows for a fact that Ziva has been moving her weapon collection over to his apartment, piece by piece, for the last few weeks, but he never seems to be able to find them when he means to. When he isn't looking for them, when he is simply going about his routine or chores, they always seem to pop out at him – like when he was looking for his spare Egyptian cotton sheets and he had almost been knocked out cold by a falling heavy-handled revolver.

As he walks past the linen closet, he recalls the blazing argument that had followed that incident, when he had still been clutching a bag of frozen peas to his head, and she had scoffed and told him not to be childish – the safety had been on. They had yelled at each other until they were hoarse and the neighbours banged on the walls. The argument had finished in the bedroom, and within an hour, he had totally forgotten about his head. Then, the neighbours had been banging on the walls for an entirely different reason.

" Ziva!"

His mind is racing – call her cell, call the police, call the hospitals, call Gibbs – when he turns into the living room and his heart stops momentarily.

She is standing, still dressed in her bright yellow windbreaker, hair pulled back from her face and cheeks tinged pink from the wind. This, at least, is usual for this time of the morning. What is not usual is the way she stands, her arms loose by her sides, the rest of her face pale, staring at the television.

" God Ziva, did you not hear me calling?"

It is only when he steps up level to her, and she still has not spoken, that he finally looks at the TV. The sound is low, but he can read the blaring headline at the bottom of the pictures of tangled metal and crying people: 'SUICIDE BOMB EXPLODES IN JERUSALEM MARKET'.

" The third in as many weeks," she finally says, and he can't help but notice the brittle quality of her voice. Her eyes have not moved from the screen.

Reaching out, he wraps his hand around hers, interlacing their fingers, and is relieved when she doesn't pull away. He knows there is nothing he can say – there has been an uptake in chatter that they were both aware of - and he feels unease settle in his stomach as they stand and watch the images of a young woman cradling the blackened body of a child on the screen. With the extent of the damage and burns it is impossible to even tell if the child is a boy or a girl.

Her hand stiffens in his, and he squeezes her fingers, trying to remind her that he is there. But she seems miles away, and he can guess exactly how many. Tugging at her hand slightly, he speaks. " Come on. Get in the shower. You don't need to watch this right now."

For a moment he expects her to argue, and braces himself for her ire, but all he gets is a weary relent. Following, she allows him to unzip her windbreaker, and gently peel her sweat-damp running clothes from her body, all the time murmuring soft nonsense whispers into her ear. Turning on the shower, he holds a hand underneath the water until the temperature settles, and then gently helps her in. She stands under the spray for a long time without moving, and he doesn't move to join her either.

" I'm gonna' call Gibbs. Tell him we'll be late in."

She cocks an eyebrow, and for the first time that morning, she looks more like her regular self. " Tony - "

" It's only paperwork. Don't argue."

With a deep sigh, she nods, and then turns her face into the spray. Walking towards the door, he watches her for a long moment, and wonders how much of the water coursing down her cheeks is from shower.

Entering the bedroom he picks up the phone, and makes the call. It is liberally shot through with Gibbs' displeasure, but Tony doesn't back down. Instead, he ends the conversation with a sharp snapping closed of his cell and tosses it on the bed, ignoring when it starts to ring again.

He sheds his clothes in a trail, piece-by-piece, as he re-enters the bathroom and watches her. Her shoulders hitch, and she reaches up to slowly push her dripping hair from her face. Stepping under the running water, he allows the steam to envelop them both as he wraps his arms around her. Pressing a kiss to her shoulder, he is relieved when she relaxes against his body, and he breathes in deeply the scent of jasmine from her skin. " It's going to be okay," he promises, lips murmuring against her skin.

Turning in his arms, she presses her lips against his almost brutally, and the kiss has a taste of desperation. She stays there until they are both dizzy, and then pulls back, resting her forehead against his. Her eyes are shot through with something dark and foreboding. " No," she says simply, " it won't."

He knows better than to argue, knows there would be no point. He has read the same reports she has, heard the same chatter, watched the same news. He has seen her stare at the phone in the early hours when she isn't sleeping, afraid that at any moment it will start ringing, and will bring the news that she has lost someone else she cares about. No, instead of arguing, he grabs her upper arms hard enough to bruise, and presses her back against the cool bathroom tiles, crashing his lips against hers. She kisses back just as hungrily, gripping his shoulders, pulling him closer until there is nothing between them save rivulets of water between stretches of slick skin.

Later, as they slide into the car, finally on their way to work, she will not meet his eye. She stares out of the window as the DC suburbs rush by, and he wonders if it made any difference at all.

XxX

He has been sitting at his desk all morning, but has yet to finish a report. His fingers hover above the keys, occasionally making attempts at typing in a strictly laconic, hunt-and-peck fashion. In truth, he has been distracted, because from the moment they got in that morning (after being met with the obligatory Gibbs-glare and head-slap), Ziva's phone has been ringing off the hook, and she has spent the last couple hours entrenched in a multitude of low, murmured conversations in a variety of languages. He worries, though, because every time he looks over at her, she has wound the phone cord tighter around her finger, and her face looks even more taut.

He tries to catch her eye, to check how she's doing, but she studiously avoids his gaze. So he goes back to typing with a pause and jab, pause and jab. His fingers hit the keyboard almost venomously.

For a moment he thinks it is typical of McGee to not be there when he needs a distraction – fear of teasing or super-glued appendages, he assumes - but the younger agent has finished all his paperwork, and, as often happens on days such as this one, has found a convenient excuse to escape to Abby's lab. In the back of Tony's mind, a more complex reason for McGee's frequent trips downstairs twists and tumbles, but he generally ignores it. He figures he is probably better off not knowing.

It is just as he is about to crack and send Ziva a text message across the bullpen that he is distracted by a large cup being placed down in front of him. The sweet, saccharine smell of his usual four sugars mixed with the rich bitterness of the coffee assaults his senses, and he breathes in deeply as he picks it up. Taking a sip, he looks up to see the mildly bemused expression of Gibbs bearing down upon him. " Thanks Boss," he murmurs as his fingers grip the warming Styrofoam.

He is met with simply a nod and a sharp flick of a finger towards his computer, a tacit indication for him to get on with his work. He would, except the minute he turns his head, his ears instantly prick up at the sound of Ziva's weary voice mumbling, " Toda."

Again, he looks over, but this time is met with her eyes over the top of her coffee cup. He knows she drinks it rich and dark and plain, and as he thinks about it he can almost taste the bitter flavour on his lips. Quirking an eyebrow, his expression is one of concern, but she ignores it in favour of clicking her mouse, her gaze shifting to firmly attach to her screen. He sighs.

Suddenly, three different things seem to happen at once: the elevator doors ping, the phone on Gibbs' desk starts ringing, and there is a muted 'thunk', followed by the sound of Ziva's vehement cursing in Hebrew.

" _Harah_!"

It is this sound that draws Tony's attention first, and as he looks over he for a split-second beat thinks it is blood spreading out over her white shirt, and his heart freezes its rhythm. Then, he realises the dark stain is coffee, slowly running a river across the desk and dripping onto her midriff, and his heart staggers to its regular beat. Grabbing tissues from his desk, he crosses the bullpen and holds them out to her.

" Need a hand?" he asks, and it is tinged partly with their usual banter, but also with something more genuine.

Slowly, her movements purposeful, she looks up at him and then back down at her ruined shirt. Then standing up from her desk, she pushes his hand away with an almost audible smack. " Do you really think a Kleenex will help, Tony?" Her tone is hard and laced with frustration, and she brushes past him without another word, heading towards the men's room. He watches her leave, arm still outstretched, and he can't help but notice the tension in her body. She does not turn around when he calls her name after her.

" What's wrong with her?" McGee's voice is honestly curious, a little concerned, and a fraction afraid. He steps into the bullpen from the elevator, eyebrows as questions, high up on his forehead.

Dropping the tissues back on his desk, Tony shakes his head and sighs. " Don't ask."

He is saved from any further queries by two simple words: " Gear up." Gibbs places his telephone back in the cradle, standing and already reaching for his weapon. " Naval Officer's been attacked at Norfolk. Secretary found him unconscious in the office and he's on his way to Bethesda."

" How do they know he was attacked Boss?"

Clipping his gun to his belt, Gibbs looks over. " Besides the fractured skull?"

" Right." McGee picks up his hat, straightening it on his head with both hands.

Without any further details, Gibbs points towards to corridor. " McGee, go find Ziva, tell her to grab her gear. Meet us at the truck." He zips up his jacket, already walking around his desk.

He doesn't miss the slight paling of McGee's face as he clears his voice. " Uh, Boss, wouldn't Tony be better - " He stops talking when his words are met with a stern glare, and then, hustling round the desk with his chin tucked into his chest adds, " On it Boss."

Tony watches as McGee takes off, and the leans down to pick up his own backpack. When he stands, he almost jumps out of his skin, because Gibbs is less than a foot in front of him, and he hasn't heard him approach. " Boss, you almost scared me half to - " He is cut short by a swift head-slap, which catches him by surprise. His eyes open wide. " Boss?"

" So help me DiNozzo if you've knocked her up…" he trails off, and the unspoken threat lingers, palpable between them.

But Gibbs' stony façade almost cracks at the look of panic that washes across his subordinate's face. " No Boss! I mean…we haven't…we don't…" Tony stammers, and then in response to Gibbs' incredulous expression, he ducks his head and mutters, with a slight blush, " We're careful."

Rolling his eyes, Gibbs brushes past, heading towards the elevator. " Then you fix whatever you did to piss her off."

Grabbing his backpack, Tony hurries to catch up. As he slides into the elevator with the older man, his tone is weary, and his face wears an unreadable expression that Gibbs is not used to. He shrugs one shoulder. " Wish I could Boss, but it isn't me this time."

Incredulous, Gibbs raises an eyebrow. " Then what is it DiNozzo?"

Tony's voice is heavy, and laced with something ineffable as he replies.

" Jerusalem."


	2. I know her face

Tony hates hospitals

Tony hates hospitals. He hates the constant beeping sounds, he hates the cloying antiseptic smell and he hates the bland, uniform décor. In his mind, he allows those things to bother him before he even starts trying to ignore the other memories that hospitals conjure: blue lights, blood, coughing, Kate. Hospital bracelets. Junkie sisters. Car park dates. Jeanne. He shudders as he enters the building, swallowing against the bad memories like a bitter tonic.

The touch of a soft hand brushing against his brings him back to the present, and he is immeasurably relieved when Ziva looks up from under her eyelashes with a brief smile as she walks past. Seemingly, on the journey, she has calmed down and decided to forgive him for the 'tissue incident', such as it was. In fact, her expression is almost one of reassurance – she knows full well the memories that buildings like this bring to mind for him – and he can't help the grateful smile that flitters across his face.

" DiNozzo!"

He shuffles quickly along the hall, averting his eyes from the officious people that teem through the hallways, as though if he were to make eye contact with any of them, they might decide to admit him and poke at him with all manner of sharp and shiny objects.

" Boss?"

Cocking his head towards the nurses' station, Gibbs begins speaking in a low voice, frustration clearly evident. " Apparently, investigating his assault isn't a good enough reason to release his medical records. Doctor Feingold over here says they're confidential."

" I could call Agent Lee, get a warrant," Tony suggests, already pulling his cell phone from his jacket pocket, his fingers poised to dial.

His actions are stilled by the pointed shaking of Gibbs' head, " There's not enough time for that. Ziva's getting a statement from Ryan's secretary, I need you to go over there and convince the nurses to give us that file."

" Convince them?" Tony is confused for a moment, until his eyes follow Gibbs' gaze over to the small desk. A crowd of women are huddled around it, eyeing the two men with interest and speaking in low, giggling whispers. Tony suspects a couple of the elder ones have eyes more for his boss, but a young blonde in blue scrubs is eyeing him with particular interest. " Oh," he exhales in understanding. " Uh, Boss, I would, it's just - "

" It's not a request, DiNozzo. We need that file."

With a resigned sigh, Tony nods his head and begins walking over. " Yes Boss." His Italian leather shoes squeak on the linoleum, and the sound makes him cringe.

He is about halfway across the hall when the sound of his name stops him. " Tony?"

He turns, and sees Gibbs staring after him, an almost amused smile playing across his lips. " Boss?"

" She throws you out for this, you can sleep in the basement."

The two men share a brief, understanding smile. " Might be taking you up on that."

Then, putting on his best charming smile, he takes a step towards the blonde, and silently prays that questioning the secretary will take Ziva plenty of time. The last thing he needs tonight is to sleep in the unyielding skeleton of an unfinished boat.

XxX

As it turns out, Gibbs is smart enough to stall Ziva until Tony has worked enough of his magic to get a copy of the file. Handing it over to Gibbs, his face is triumphant, even though most of the information inside of the file will have to go through a Ducky translation to de-jargon it if it is going to be at all useful. He understands the words 'fracture' and winces at the term 'sub-cranial', but the rest of it is a medical blur, and he almost for a moment wishes he had paid more attention to all the medical texts he had flicked through last year.

The rest of the afternoon in spent looking in detail at the officer's life, and Tony finds out more about Commander Charles Ryan then he really cares to know. He knows his address, phone number, and social security number. He knows the names of his parents, his siblings, his wife. Knows where he likes to play golf and where he goes for breakfast every Sunday. Knows he's toured Iraq, but not since '91, and has spent the last two years in Norfolk, working for human resources.

" Pencil pusher."

McGee and Ziva both look up from their computers at the sound of Tony assertion.

" What Tony?" McGee's eyes are slightly bloodshot, probably from looking at the screen all day in an attempt to crack into Ryan's laptop. He stretches, and from across the room, Tony can hear his back crack.

" He's a pencil pusher, McGeek. An HR lackey." Leaning back in his chair, Tony folds his arms behind his head, looking across at the younger man. " Didn't know anything sensitive, wasn't privy to any classified information. There's no reason for anyone to attack him."

" Someone had a reason DiNozzo or he wouldn't be lying in the hospital with his brain bleeding into his skull." Gibbs' voice is enough to have Tony sit bolt upright, causing Ziva to stifle an amused grin from her desk across the bullpen. He cocks an eyebrow at her – secretly happy that she looks happy – but instead of saying something, turns to talk to the older man.

" Don't know what it is yet Boss," he answers honestly.

Sitting down at his desk, Gibbs picks up his ubiquitous coffee cup and takes a long sip. " Ducky says the weapon was something heavy and metal."

The three young investigators consider that for a moment. " A hammer maybe?"

" The wound is too long and thin. A hammer would leave a deeper, more circular mark. Perhaps a crowbar."

" Where would you get a crowbar in an office?"

" Where would you get a hammer?"

" I keep one in my desk."

" You would."

Gibbs, half listening to the conversation, types into his keyboard with heavy, purposeful strokes. " Whatever it was, Ducky sent the scrapings he got from Commander Ryan's wounds down to Abby."

McGee stands up from his desk with a stretch. " I'm gonna go see if she needs any help," he says, half as a question, half as a statement, but takes off quickly when he is met with a slight nod and a dismissing wave of the hand from Gibbs.

" Just take her a Caf-Pow."

After almost ten more minutes of the remaining three flicking through papers and tapping away at screens, Gibbs speaks up from his desk. " The two of you might as well take off too."

Gibbs is met by identical surprised expressions. Tony doesn't argue, and begins to pack his things, but Ziva folds her hands in her lap and looks at him, almost confused. " I have not finished running these phone numbers," she admits, brushing a loose lock of hair back behind her ear. Inwardly, Tony curses her for her honesty. He hasn't finished running down all of the workers from Ryan's office either, but he wasn't going to admit that when Gibbs was offering them a free pass to leave the office before 10.

The surprise only escalates when Gibbs shakes his head. " They'll be there in the morning. Go home. Get some sleep." It might just be Tony's imagination, but he is almost sure that Gibbs puts extra stress on the word 'sleep'. Tony can't help but give an overly innocent 'who me?' expression, which is met by a knowing half-glare. " We've worked flat out these last couple weeks. Ryan's not dead and the doc says he's in stable condition. Go home. Rest."

" Boss - "

" It's not a request, DiNozzo."

Tony realises that Gibbs' gaze is on Ziva, who has turned her back to collect her things from her desk, and he lets his eyes wander the same way. Though it has been almost two months since they both returned to the country from their purgatorial separation, she has yet to gain back all the weight she lost between Afghanistan and Russia, and so has a ragged, almost fragile look about her that tends to worsen in spells. It makes Tony worry, but he won't admit it because he knows Ziva does not take well to being fussed over, and he has no wish to be standing at the wrong end of her weapon. Not again.

The two men share a small, almost imperceptible nod as Tony waits for Ziva to pull on her jacket. Then, absentmindedly reaching out, he untucks her ponytail from her collar, and is surprised when she lets him. Usually, such displays of affection are rebuffed when not in private.

" See you tomorrow Gibbs."

" Shalom, Jethro."

Their goodbyes are met with a sardonic expression and a scant flicker of a glance. " In on time tomorrow. And at least wait 'til you're in the elevator before you start playing grab-ass."

With suppressed smiles, they leave the bullpen, and following orders, Ziva waits until the elevator doors have slid shut before sliding her hand into his.

XxX

Before they have even got out of the car at home, Tony knows what kind of evening it is going to be. He had planned on cracking open a bottle of red wine, cooking some pasta and settling into a movie, relishing being home before the middle of the night, but Ziva seems to have other ideas. All the time they are driving – with him at the wheel, because he hasn't quite got to the point where he will let her control the Mustang – her hand rests on his knee. The closer they get to home, the further her hand slides up his thigh, and by the time he pulls on the handbrake, her hand is high enough that it makes him squirm.

" Not hungry?" he asks, and almost head-slaps himself, because he can hear his voice soaring an octave higher than normal as she flexes her fingers.

Caressing her thumb back and forth, she uses her other hand to trail lazily over her collarbone. When she speaks, her voice is husky. " Not hungry."

He doesn't fight when she reaches across and grasps his collar, pulling him towards her with a strength that belies her size. There's no way he'll argue when he's at this end of her forceful nature. Instead, he allows himself to taste the coffee on her lips, breathing in the scent of sun and sand and jasmine that is simply her.

Leaning back, she breathes out just as he breathes in, and it is almost as though he is inhaling some of her essence. It makes him dizzy. " Inside," she murmurs, her fingers already working at the top buttons of his shirt.

" Inside," he agrees, pulling his hand away from where it has been creeping up under her shirt. The cotton brushes against the back of his hand, soft and cool on his skin.

They just about manage to get out of the car and lock the doors, and then to the front door (with the fastest pace that Tony thinks he has ever used when not chasing a suspect) before Ziva slides her hand into the front pocket of Tony's jeans to retrieve his key and he almost groans. " Zi - " he starts, but she puts a finger to his lips.

There is a silence that feels like it lasts for an eternity before Tony hears the telltale 'click', and watches Ziva push the door open. She turns and shoots him what he, in his head, calls her 'sexy ninja' smile. It makes him wonder equally whether she is going to kill him or kiss him all over. At this point, he'll take his chances.

Tugging the elastic out of her hair, the curls tumble over her shoulders, and his fingers itch to touch them. But just as he reaches out, she ducks out of his grasp. " Give me five minutes," she says, and it isn't as much as request as an order, so he collapses onto the sofa and starts pulling petulantly at his tie. Watching him, she smiles, amused, and leans down to plant a kiss on him so hot and long that his brain starts to shut off. He doesn't even notice that the kiss has stopped until she is halfway across the room. " Five minutes," she reiterates, before disappearing into the bedroom.

The tie is tossed across the room and the shoes kicked off before he even thinks about the half-order that Gibbs had sent him away with. So, they were meant to be getting 'rest' tonight; he is almost sure that will happen later. Almost.

His thoughts are suddenly distracted from the half-naked assassin in the next room when his phone begins buzzing against his leg. Sliding it out of his pocket and looking at the display, he half expects for it to show '_Gibbs'_ in a show of suspected psychic powers, but he doesn't recognise the number that flashes up on the front. Watching it ring for a moment, he briefly considers his options.

Finally, flipping the phone open, he presses it to his ear, his mind still busy imaging what is happening fifteen feet away. " Hello?" For a moment, there is nothing, and he almost hangs up. Then he hears a slow, steady breath, in and out. In the silence, it is disconcerting. " Look as much fun as this heavy breathing is, I'm hanging up." He laces his voice with false bravado, and has just begun to pull the phone away from his ear when a voice stops him.

" Tony?"

" Adler?" Despite the unfamiliar number, he recognises the young woman's voice - after all, he had spent three months listening to her boss him about aboard ship, and she had called him a number of times since his return from Spain to check in (and check up on him, he's fairly sure). He knows she too has been moved to the States, and had started work at Norfolk a month ago. " Look, Adler, this really isn't a good time. Can I call you…" His words are interrupted by the sound of a hiccup, and is stills him in his tracks, because he realises she is crying. Adler, crying. The notion astounds him. " Adler?" he pauses, " Ramona - what happened?"

" Tony…" another hiccup.

He feels his heartbeat begin to race in his chest for what seems like the hundredth time that day, hammering his ribs. " Ramona, what's wrong? Are you hurt?"

There is a long pause, where everything seems to fade into nothingness.

" I think…I think I killed him."

XxX

In an instant, whatever amorous feelings Tony had been fostering up to this point disappear. He is up off of the sofa; phone still pressed to his ear as he paces the room. " Adler, Adler where are you? Are you hurt? Tell me where you are." His voice is direct and forceful, but it doesn't cut through her tears. " Ramona, tell me where you are, I'll come get you."

There are hiccups and unsteady breathing on the other end, and Tony is almost sure she is hyperventilating. He is just about to grab his other phone and get McGee to trace her cell when she finally speaks. " I'm on M Street."

" Which end?" he asks, not even bothering to ask what on earth she is doing in the District when she lives in Virginia almost three hours away.

" Uh…" her voice is distracted, as though she hasn't even really noticed where she is until this point. He hears cars driving past and the sound of blaring horns. " South East. By South Capital."

He is already pulling his shoes on and grabbing his keys before she even finishes talking. " Stay there. Stay right there, I'll be fifteen minutes." This, even though the drive should take thirty, because he can hear her tears and he know his heartbeat won't return to normal until he sees her face.

" Okay," she whispers back, and her voice is so small that it is barely audible.

He hangs up the phone without as much as a goodbye, already calling through the apartment. " Ziva!"

" I said five minutes Tony, don't be a child," he hears her call back from inside the bedroom, but instead of waiting, he pushes the door open. He is met with quite an arresting sight – Ziva, pulling her shirt over her head, jeans already kicked to the floor, curls tumbling down her naked back, wearing only a scrap of black lace. For a moment, his mouth dries, but he has to shake himself – now is not the time.

As she turns around, she starts, " You are the most impatient - " before stopping. He knows panic must be clearly evident on his face, because she drops her look of consternation in an instant. " What's happened?" She steps up to him, still almost totally undressed, and presses a hand to his cheek. " Did Gibbs call?" As he shakes his head, her face begins to pale. " A hospital? Your father? My father?"

" Adler," he finally admits, resting his hand on top of hers briefly.

Her face contorts to confusion almost instantly. " Adler? Ramona Adler?" The two women had met in those last few days in Barcelona and at the time Ziva had seemed to like the younger woman, but now she removes her hand from his cheek, folding her arms over her naked chest.

Tony nods, feeling the irritation radiate from her, and begins to explain in a hasty, halting manner. " She called, and I don't know, something's happened. She's in trouble, or she's hurt." He doesn't mention the half-confession she had sobbed down the phone, but keeps his eyes averted save her reading the truth there. " I have to go get her."

" From Norfolk? That is a three hour drive this time of night." She turns her back on him, going to the chest of drawers and pulling out one of his old t-shirts. His college emblem stares back at him and seems startlingly incongruous in that moment. She slips it over her head before turning back, and it falls to her mid-thigh.

" She's in DC," he explains. " On M Street. I don't know what she's doing here."

" She did not tell you?" Ziva's expression is one of curiosity, and he knows he has piqued her investigative side, even through her annoyance. He wants to tell her how much he regrets not being able to rip her clothes off right now and throw her on the bed, but he can't ignore the tear-filled voice that is still echoing in his ears. So he just shakes his head. Seeing his honest concern, Ziva sighs, some of the irritation dissipating, though just enough lingering to make her words hard. " Go. I will be here when you get back."

With his shoulders tense, he nods, and grabs his jacket before turning and walking out of the bedroom. He has just grabbed the handle to the front door when he feels a hand on his arm, and it makes him stop. When he turns, she is right in front of him, and she stands on tiptoe to press a soft, forgiving peck against his lips. " Drive safely - it is beginning to rain."

With the promise that he will, he leaves the apartment, and as he slides into the driver's seat of the car, he gives himself an extra hard head-slap.

So much for a quiet evening in.

XxX

The rain has moved on from a little shower to absolutely pouring by the time he exits the freeway. His windshield wipers are on at their maximum level, but he can still barely make things out as he crawls along the street, his eyes scanning the surroundings for the sight of his young Midshipman friend. Almost at the end of M Street, he swears vehemently in English and Italian, and is just about to pull out his cell phone when he sees her.

She is huddled in a doorway, drenched from head to toe. Tony can't help but notice that she still wears her uniform, and the thin cotton clings to her skinny frame. Her hair, normally so neat and orderly, falls over her face in sodden, wet-dark clumps, and he brakes the car quicker than he should, pulling it onto the side of the road.

" Adler!" he calls over the storming weather as he exits the car. Running across the street, he splashes in a puddle accidentally, and the water flows over his shoes and soaks his socks. " Adler!" he calls again.

He is practically at her side by the time she hears him. She turns her face towards him, and he is shocked by what he sees. She is pale, even more so than normal, and it is made all the more striking by the patches of dried blood on her neck and chin, clearly the aftermath of an earlier nosebleed. Normally confident and brazen, she seems almost hunched in on herself, and she wraps her arms around her body. He doesn't miss how she flinches as he reaches out for her shoulder. " Adler?" he says again, this time holding out his hand for her to take. " Come on, let's get you out of the rain."

There is a moments hesitation, and then she reaches out with her left hand and wraps her fingers around his. He's surprised by the desperate feel of her grip, but doesn't question it as he leads her to the car. Once inside, he takes off his jacket and wraps it around her shoulders, turning all the heaters on and directing them towards her shivering body.

The whole ride home, she doesn't speak. Ramona, who argued with him for three months straight, who cajoled him and teased him and bantered with him, is absolutely silent. It's eerie enough to make him feel slightly sick.

Once home, he escorts her into the apartment with a strong arm across her shoulders, and her body quivers beneath it. Ziva has clearly been watching for them, because he doesn't even have to fumble for his keys – the door swings open the minute his feet touch the first step.

" _Gevne_," she murmurs, the shock clear despite her Hebrew exclamation, catching sight of Adler. Holding the door, still dressed in the over-sized t-shirt of Tony's now coupled with thick woollen socks, she allows the two to step inside, and then, patting Tony's arm says, " I will get some towels."

" And something dry for her to wear," he calls after her.

Ramona still stands stock-still in the centre of the living room, dripping water onto the hard wood floor. She stares around, unseeing for a moment, until Tony grips her upper arms. Then her eyes widen, and she looks at him in shock. " Tony," she finally speaks, the name tripping off her tongue, as though only now recognising him.

" Adler, what happened?" he asks again, his voice low so as not to be heard by Ziva, who shuffles around just in his line of sight, reaching into the linen closet. " You said you killed someone."

She turns her face away at his words, struggling in his grip though he doesn't let go. The soaked cotton of her uniform rubs against her wet-raw skin and chills his hands. " I was bleeding," she states, and it seems like a non-sequitur, save the way she reaches up to touch her crimson-stained face. " He wouldn't let go."

The words and the image they cause makes bile rise in the back of Tony's throat, and he clenches his jaw. Loosening his grip on her, he instead pulls her towards his chest, wrapping his arms around her, and she goes to him willingly, leaning into him like a tired, small child. He rests his chin on top of her head, ignoring how wet her hair and clothes are. " You're going to be okay now," he promises, rubbing her back, both to comfort and to warm. " I'll make this right. Whatever happened, I'll make it right."

Any further reassurances are cut short by Ziva's return to the living room. Holding two large towels, she throws one to Tony, who catches it one handed, and indicates Ramona with the other. " I have laid out some dry clothes in the bathroom," she explains to Tony, and then speaking to the other woman, directs, " Come now and let's get you warm." Her tone is almost maternal as she holds her hand out, and Tony watches, a little in awe, as Ramona nods and takes her hand. She follows along like a wayward little girl.

As he hears the water in the bathroom begin to flow, he sits heavily down on the sofa. He has to fix this. He just has to.

Where to start?

XxX

It is over an hour later before they settle Ramona down, wearing a t-shirt and old track pants of Tony's that make her look like nothing more then a daughter dressing up in her daddy's clothes. Covered with three layers of blankets and still shivering, she lays curled tightly on the sofa, her eyes finally drifting shut with exhaustion. Tony sits on the opposite armchair, watching her, worry and concern and something else he isn't familiar with playing across his mind. His brow furrows.

He doesn't even hear Ziva re-enter the room until she winds her fingers through his hair, the gentle touch making his eyelids flutter closed for a second. He sighs, reaching out for her and pulling her into his lap, where she sits without argument. Briefly, he rests his forehead against her sternum, and she drops a kiss to the top of his head. He curls a hand around her hip, " What am I supposed to do?"

His words are muffled into her breastbone, but she understands him perfectly. " You look after her. You let her sleep. We will talk to her again tomorrow when the shock wears off." Because they recognise Adler's behaviour now: the confusion, the lingering fear, the inability to stop shaking. Shock, from whatever had occurred before she had found her way to M Street.

Ziva's fingers trace the planes of his face as he pulls back, and she drops a short kiss to the corner of his mouth. " Come to bed," she requests, sliding off of his knee.

But he shakes his head, turning his eyes back to the sofa. " I want to make sure she's alright."

" Tony?" When he looks back at her, her arms are dropped down by her sides, her chin held high, and she is eyeing him with an expression that speaks of myriad feelings. Her voice is very soft. " She is asleep and she is safe here. Come to bed."

Finally relenting, he nods his head, standing up out of the chair and allowing her to lead him into the bedroom. Lying between the cool, cotton sheets, he lets her comfort him with her touch, and her kisses, and soft, murmured words.

By the time they finally sleep, the sun has already started to rise.


	3. Don't you sometimes wonder?

Entering work the next day Tony feels like he hasn't slept at all, and he knows he must look as bad as he feels because Gibbs g

Entering work the next day Tony feels like he hasn't slept at all, and he knows he must look as bad as he feels because Gibbs glares at him pointedly. He doesn't even have the energy to try and apologise, but gets down to running the records he had not finished the previous night. In truth, his mind is nowhere near the case, and he is torn between concern for the distracted brunette across the room and the diminutive blonde he left wrapped in blankets in his lounge.

When McGee finally arrives (and Tony is amused to see him get the head-slap as he shuffles out of the elevator, still pulling his jacket on), they all begin to move as Gibbs tosses orders out which have them scurrying.

" McGee, Ziva, run down phone records, emails, anything that could give us a motive for attacking this guy. DiNozzo, you're with me."

Collecting up his things and shouldering his backpack, Tony ducks into the elevator, having time just to catch Ziva's jealous expression before the doors slide shut. She hates desk work. " Where we headed Boss?" he asks, zipping up his jacket and looking over at the older man who is currently checking his watch.

" Norfolk, DiNozzo. I want you following up the interview with Ryan's secretary, finding out who was in the building that night. Who might have seen something."

The drive in the blue Charger is frenetic, but used to Gibbs' usual style of driving, Tony simply keeps his mouth shut and a firm hold of the door handle. The three hour drive to Norfolk takes and hour and forty-five minutes, and as he pushes the door open Tony doesn't think he could be any more grateful to be no longer moving. He wonders if he should have gotten used to near-death road experiences, between Gibbs and Ziva, but pushes the thought back as they enter the base.

Once inside, he follows Gibbs' lead as they get directed to Commander Ryan's office, where he had been found the previous morning. They are met in the hallway by an officious if nervous looking chubby brunette, her hair cut in a bob and thick-rimmed spectacles on her ruddy face. She holds out her hand for the two men to shake.

" Ag-agent Gibbs?" she stammers slightly, and is met by a curt nod from the man in question. " I'm Jayne Dawson, Commander Ryan's secretary? I was – I was told you wanted to, uh, to meet with me?"

" You were the one who found the Commander?" Gibbs asks, cutting straight to it, flipping his notebook open, a pencil at the ready.

Her nod is enthusiastic and slightly manic, her head bobbing up and down. " Yes Sir. Yes I did. I uh, I found him by the door to his office, in here." Holding her hand out in the direction of the small room, she teeters unsteadily in sky-high patent red heels. Tony can't help but stare, as they seem unfathomably incongruous to the rest of her dour appearance.

He stops thinking about her shoes, however, as soon as she pushes open the door. There is still a large stain on the floor that Tony recognises as drying blood – it is no longer red, but a bracken brownish, and the scent of copper still lingers in the air. There has obviously been a struggle, because items have tumbled off of the bookshelves, and the sturdy mahogany desk has been sent into disarray. " I've kept the door shut since the paramedics left," Jayne explainsed, smoothing her hand over her sleek dark hair. " I thought you'd want to see it, uh, as it was to uh, maintain the evidence."

The terminology almost makes Tony smile, as he straightaway recognises her as someone who watches too much 'Law and Order' and fancies herself a detective. He would bet she's a fan of Thom E Gemcity even. But her instincts are good, so he can't mock her too hardily, even in his head.

The scene is met by an approving nod by Gibbs, who points a finger at Tony and then into the room, indicating it is his role to process the scene and collect any evidence that remains there.

" Has there been any news about Commander Ryan?" Jayne's concern is obvious in her wide dark eyes, and she wrings her hands distractedly.

Pausing, Gibbs finishes writing a note before he replies. " His condition's stable."

Picking up his camera, Tony begins documenting the scene, from the smashed glass of Ryan's family photo, to the crooked diploma hanging half off the wall. Though he knows the large stain on the carpet belongs to Ryan, he catches sight of a smaller patch on the rim of the bookcase, and swabs that as well, just in case. It could be a sample of the attacker, and he knows Abby will be able to match it if need be. As he continues processing, Gibbs begins to question Jayne Dawson, following up using Ziva's original notes. Tony recognises the handwriting from across the room.

" Can you walk me through what happened that night?"

Eyes fixated on the blood, Jayne Dawson nods her head. " We've been transferring a lot of old files onto our new computerised system. Most of the days have been spent archiving old paperwork and moving files from storage. Commander Ryan had been leading the team, pulling some really long hours so the new system can go live next week. Charlie - uh, I mean Commander Ryan," she corrects with a slight stammer – " he was working late that night to finish off L through R files. The system had crashed that morning so we were running behind. He sent me home about seven1900, said he'd only be another hour. I argued, but he insisted, so I went. I was back in the office by eight 0800a.m, and that's when…that's when I found him."

Tony knows Gibbs has been noting this carefully, following his own rule about never assuming. Just because Jayne Dawson had phoned in the crime, and has seemed nothing but helpful, Tony knows from experience that this didn't mean she couldn't be lying. Catching sight of a scrap of torn material in the pool of blood, Tony pulls out a pair of tweezers and picks it up. Soaked as it is, it is impossible to tell what colour it had originally been, but he bags it for transfer to Abby's lab.

" And was anyone else working late that night?" Gibbs' follow-up question is an obvious one, and so Tony only half-listens, not particularly concerned with the answer. His attention is diverted instead by the strand of long, blonde hair that he spies caught in the dark weave carpet.

Jayne Dawson has not seen Tony lift this piece of evidence, however, because she has moved behind her desk in the outer office to stare at her computer screen. " I'm not sure. We all have to swipe in and out of the building," she explains, " so there should be a log of who was still in the department." Sinking into the desk chair, which groans under her girth, she taps into the computer, pulling up a series of menus. Squinting at the screen, she eventually speaks again. " Parsons and McCaffrey left at six1800. Then I swiped out at uh, 1910 ten after seven. The only two people left in the building were Commander Ryan and…Mona. She's new. She was helping with the archiving."

" Where would we find Mona?"

Tapping again at the computer, Jayne Dawson goes from squinting to looking rather concerned. Clearing her throat, she looks up at Gibbs with a slightly panicked expression. " She isn't here Sir," she admits, and her tone is drenched in apology, as though she is afraid that she could be in trouble for being the bearer of bad tidings.

" Isn't here?" Gibbs' tone is laced with frustration, and he too squints at the computer as the curvaceous woman taps at it almost desperately.

" She – she never signed in today Sir. I'm sorry. I – I don't know what to say."

Packing up his things, Tony too wanders over to the desk where the woman is searching through her on-screen files. " We need to put out a BOLO Boss?" he asks, his voice quite low as he picks up a pen and begins twirling it around his fingers.

Cocking his head, Gibbs looks like he can't quite decide his response. " Could be another victim," he replies in a similar low tone, and then picking his voice up, asks Jayne Dawson, " Has anyone tried getting in touch with her?"

Jayne nods her head, flicking her gaze between the computer and the two men. " This morning Sir, when she didn't arrive. Apparently there's been no response. They were waiting 'til the end of the day to report her UA." Pausing, she swallows hard, the motion causing her throat to ripple and her shoulders to heave. " Do you think she was attacked too Sir?"

He doesn't dignify the question with a reply, but just throws out another order. " Bring up her file," he directs. " If she is missing we need to know where to start looking."

Paling, Jayne Dawson clicks on the computer and begins typing in the name. " Mona's only been here a couple months. She's a lovely girl; I can't imagine why anyone would want to hurt her. If she's missing…" she trails off, and a name and picture pop up on the screen in front of her.

As Gibbs stares, Tony feels his entire body seize up. _Mona_.

" Boss."

" DiNozzo, get a copy of this file and get it to McGee, we need him tracing the Midshipman as soon as possible."

" Boss."

" Get on the phone with Ducky, see how the Commander is doing and talk to Ziva - find out whether anyone matching the Midshipman's description has been admitted to hospitals around the area."

" BOSS!"

Gibbs's orders are finally broken into, and he stops talking with an irate expression. " What IS it DiNozzo?" he asks, his voice bursting with frustration.

Standing frozen, Tony can't tear his eyes away from the pale, non-descript blonde that is gazing up at him from the screen, an almost sardonic smile on her angular face. He recognises the sense of teasing tenacity in the pale-eyed expression. His hands clench in fists by his sides. " She isn't missing Boss."

" What?"

" Mona. Midshipman Adler. She isn't missing. Boss, she's asleep on my couch."


	4. When you're tired

The silence is almost suffocating in the car on the way home

The silence is almost suffocating in the car on the way home. When Tony starts to explain, his words are cut off by a hand being sharply raised and an upping of the speed by a mile-an-hour or so, so the G-force presses Tony back into his seat. So the two sit in silence for two hours, and Tony knows the tension must be palpable, because the moment they step back into the bullpen, McGee and Ziva look up at them with matching expressions of disquiet.

Gibbs throws his keys down but keeps his gun clipped to his belt. " McGee, Ziva, go bring someone in."

The two look confused, but rise from their seats slowly as Tony lingers by his desk, his chin tipped down, one toe of his Italian loafers scuffing against the carpet.

" What's the address Boss?" McGee asks, tapping at his computer to continue the search he has been working on, as he moves to collect up his things.

Banging his badge down on the desk, Gibbs voice is hard and his words are short punches in the quiet of the room. His bright blue eyes flash. " Six Magdalene Court. Cedar Street. Silver Spring." He does not tear his gaze from his Senior Field Agent, who is frozen on the other side of the room.

At the recitation of the address, Ziva's head snaps up. " Tony's apartment." It is not a question, but she flickers between Tony and Gibbs, and Tony can see her mind whirring. She tries to catch his eye, to ask the unspoken question, but he will not meet her gaze.

She does not move to collect her things, and Gibbs notices her reticence. " It wasn't a request Officer David," he orders harshly, and he can tell she is taken aback at his tone. " Go collect Midshipman Adler and bring her in for questioning."

" What is she being charged with?" The question is direct, and the way Ziva holds her chin up high tells both Gibbs and Tony – who have seen the woman at her most stubborn – that she is not moving until she is given a good reason to do so. Her brusque tone makes Tony shiver.

Gibbs' voice is slow and curt as he replies. " Nothing. Yet."

Finally, Tony speaks, his voice sounding almost hoarse from the hours of disuse. " She was the last person to see Commander Ryan that night. She works in his department."

Ziva's eyes widen, and as she speaks it is as though there is no one else in the room but Tony and her. " You did not know this?" In the question, her voice wavers between accusation and a little bit of hurt, and somehow, for some reason, he is unable to give a valid explanation. Instead, he can only shrug, and hopes his eyes hold enough regret that she believes his unspoken apology.

Her body tense at the non-answer, she relents to Gibbs' orders with a perfunctory nod, picking up her backpack and following McGee to the elevator. It slides shut with a 'ping' and Tony can't even look at her as they disappear.

When the head-slap comes, he doesn't even flinch. This one, he knows, is entirely deserved.

XxX

The lights in interrogation have never seemed harsher than at this moment. From observation, Tony stands and watches as the glaring yellow beams down on Adler, who sits in the empty, stark room, looking tinier then he can even fathom. She still wears the over-sized clothes of his she had borrowed the night before, but her hair at least has been pulled back from her face into her usual ponytail. The sleeves of the long sweatshirt cover her hands, which she has folded in front of her as she stares blankly at the tabletop. She is barely recognizable from the spunky, opinionated, spirited girl who ran his life for three months on the sea.

He doesn't even realise that his hands are clenched into fists until the door to observation opens and then closes again with a soft click, and he is met with the sound of, " You should have told me she was in trouble."

" I didn't know." The response is only slightly tinged with a lie, and he knows she will be able to hear it in an instant, so he amends his words. " She wouldn't say what had happened. I was worried about her."

" And you thought I would turn her in?" There is obvious hurt in her voice, and when Tony finally turns to look at Ziva, she is leant up against the two-way glass; her arms folded across her chest and her face half cast in shadow. He is very glad in that moment that the sound techs all have their headphones on and are not eavesdropping, because he recognises her expression and her words cut. " Do you not trust me Tony?"

" You know I do." His answer is brittle and laced with something that sounds like resentment but is actually far more apologetic than that. " Don't ask that, you know I do." He wants to reach out and touch her, but he knows right now it wouldn't be good for either one of them. Passive-aggression simmers at the surface of their conversation. " I would have told you if I could have figured out how."

He knows she would have replied in a similar tone, save at that moment the door to interrogation is slammed open, and Gibbs steps into the room. Sitting down in the opposite chair, he stares at Ramona, who meets his gaze with wide, pale eyes.

" Midshipman Adler."

" Yes Sir." Her voice is thin and reedy, and a far cry from her usual brash yet melodic tones. Tony can feel himself frowning as the worry niggles at the back of his neck, but he ignores it as he watches the conversation in the adjoining room. He knows Ziva is watching him more than Gibbs, but he ignores her stare.

Gibbs is studying the young woman, and Tony recognises the strategy. He has seen Gibbs conduct whole interviews in silence before, reading people, reading expressions and body language and character. This seems to be what he is doing as he watches Ramona, who sits, back straight, feet flat on the floor, unflinching.

Finally, Gibbs speaks. " You're stationed at Norfolk?"

" Yes Sir."

" For the last two months?"

" Yes Sir. In the Personnel department, Sir."

" And before that?"

" Sir?"

" Where were you serving before that, Midshipman?"

Slowly, Adler licks her lips, the tip of her tongue pink against pale papery skin. When she answers, her words are clear and purposeful, and just tinged with her lingering Southern lilt. " USS Ronald Reagan. Six-month tour. Mediterranean and the Adriatic."

Looking her in the eyes, Gibbs' words match hers for simplicity. " Where were you Wednesday night, 1900 hours?"

Her hesitation is only evident in the small ripple in her throat, and the way she pulls her sleeves slightly further down over her hands. She breathes in and out before answering. " Work."

" At Norfolk. In the Personnel department." It is not a question.

Adler nods her head, eyes still wide. " Yes Sir."

" With Commander Ryan."

It is only because Tony knows Ramona so well that he catches her reaction. Moving her arms from off the table, she tucks her hands under her skinny thighs, her gaze skittering from Gibbs to the two-way glass, as though she knows Tony is waiting on the other side. She licks her lips again. " System crashed early that day. Commander Ryan asked me to stay and help get it all back up to speed."

" He sent his secretary home," Gibbs throws out, seemingly to see how she will handle that fact.

As it is, Ramona's reaction seems almost an impulse, as she rolls her eyes and scoffs. " Well I know my ass from my elbow."

Tony can't help the slightly proud smile that flickers across his lips at the assertion. He doesn't look over, but can feel that Ziva has taken a step closer to him, and her arm hovers by his as they stand. Tony suspects that amusement has flickered through Gibbs' eyes as well, but as he can only see the back of the elder man's head, this is purely speculation.

The next words cut all jocularity from the room. " What happened that night?"

Ramona is still as a statue, as though not wanting to give anything away with her body. It takes her an age to speak and when she does, the words are muted. " I don't know." All those observing recognise the lack of truth in this, and Gibbs does nothing but stare. This seems to unnerve her, and she shifts in the chair just slightly. Swallowing again, she eventually repeats, " I don't know. I was workin', I was in the office." She is obviously getting anxious, because her breath is quickening, and her strange eyes dart from the glass to Gibbs' face and back. " I was workin', and then there was blood all over everythin'. I don't know."

His voice low and steady, Gibbs' asks, " Do you know who attacked Commander Ryan, Midshipman?"

Her face is aghast, and it's all that Tony can do to stay in the room. He is immeasurably grateful when Ziva leans over just slightly, so their shoulders brush. He doesn't look at her, but continues staring forwards. His chest feels tight.

Adler stares forward, ashen and almost grey, and simply shakes her head. Her lips are pursed in a tight line, her shoulders hunched. She jigs one leg under the table. " I couldn't stop him," she finally whispers, and there is a trace of guilt laced in the admission. " He came in the room, and I didn't even hear him at first. I didn't recognise him. And then there was blood everywhere."

Tony has watched interviews like this before, and usually by this point the person has collapsed forward onto the table, or at least has fat tears rolling down their cheeks. But Ramona has yet to reach that release, and he watches as Gibbs coils the spring tighter and tighter with his questions. " How did you get to DC?" he asks, changing tack.

The response is automatic. " Four finger cab company," Ramona replies, her voice barely audible, and then folds each finger down in turn before jabbing her thumb back over her shoulder. Seeing Gibbs' reaction to the movement, she shrugs her shoulders and drops her hand back into her lap as though with distaste. " I hitched. I know it ain't safe Sir, but I just ran. I thought he might be comin' after me." After this explanation, her momentary bravado seems to waver, and she hesitates before speaking again. " I - I don't remember getting to town."

" What about calling Agent DiNozzo? Do you remember that?"

There is silence for a moment, and then, slowly, she shakes her head.

In observation, Ziva finally speaks. " She is lying, you know this, yes?" Her voice is regretful, and concerned, and she doesn't turn to look at him but keeps her eyes on the young blonde instead. In interrogation, Ramona shifts in her seat again.

He wishes he could lie, but knows he can't. Not to her. So instead, he sighs, " Yeah."

Nodding, Ziva touches his hand briefly, and her voice is very soft. Even with Gibbs barely five feet away and separated only by a thin glass wall, they both know this conversation is private. " You must tell Gibbs."

" I can't."

" Why?"

" Because," is his first reason, and he knows it won't fly left simply at that. So tilting his head to her, watching the shadows play on her face, he sighs. " I know she's lying," he explains. " I just don't know what she's lying about."

There is silence for a long moment before Ziva speaks again. " You care about her." It isn't a question, and she reaches up to brush an escaping curl back behind her ear as she speaks. In the half-light, the delicateness of her fingers is almost startling, and Tony can't help but reach out and take the hand in his.

" I do," he agrees, entwining their fingers and looking into her face. " I owe her a lot."

Taking a step towards him, Ziva nods her head knowingly. " She looked after you well while you were Agent Afloat," she acknowledges, feeling the cotton of his shirt against the palm of her hand. " Kept your spirits high, yes?"

" Spirits 'up'", he corrects automatically, and then, " Kept me sane more like." Following this admission, he runs a finger down her cheek, noting with a pang how she leans into his fleeting touch. " When you disappeared, and we thought - we thought we'd lost you…" he trails off, looking at her intently, his blue-green eyes narrow and dark in the dim light. He knows they are both repeating the same memories – blood matted red hair, California sun, orders, that final night together, the desperation and the ensuing pain of their separation – and so pauses for a moment before continuing, letting the memory sink in. " She forced me to get up every day, and shower, and eat, and she didn't have to do any of that. I can't just ignore that."

" I was not asking you to."

In the interrogation room, Gibbs continues to stare at Adler, who does nothing but stare back, and Tony realises they are in for a very long night.

XxX

After the silence of interrogation, the sharp blast of music as the lab doors slide open is almost overwhelming. The bright lights and gleaming surfaces also seem in sharp dichotomy to the stifling darkness of the small observation room. Stepping inside the lab, Tony barely has the chance to register what is happening before there is a flash of movement in his periphery and he is suddenly swamped by a pair of black pigtails and a cape-like flying lab coat.

" Tony!" Abby's voice is excited in a way only hers can be: with a mixture of exhaustion, over-caffination and worry. " I've been waiting for you to come down here all afternoon. Are you okay? I heard Gibbs really tore you a new one." Her words flurrying out of her mouth, she gives him a sharp squeeze before pulling back and studying him intently. " Bad day huh?"

" Not in my top ten," he admits, but then takes a deep breath and steps further into the room, his shoes squeaking against the cool tiled flooring. " You got a name to go with my mystery blood yet?"

Whipping around, Abby taps on her keyboard and it begins flickering through possible results so fast that it makes Tony dizzy. Unsurprisingly, it does not seem to faze Abby. " Still running the blood and hair. Major Mass Spec recognised the blood stained scrap of material though – comes from an enlisted Naval uniform."

" Beige?" he asks, feeling his stomach clench.

Nodding her head, Abby's pigtails swing by her shoulders. She takes a hearty sip from the large cup of Caf-Pow sitting on her desk, and the ice cubes rattle in the bottom. " How did you know? The breakdown recognised the material as the kind they use specifically in those types of uniforms. It was only a small piece though, so torn off of a shirt or pants maybe."

Kneading his forehead with his fingers against the forming headache, which is being helped not at all by the throbbing basse of Abby's latest band-du-jour, Tony keeps his voice soft. " I really need to find out who else was in that room Abs," he explains, and his voice holds a slightly pleading tone.

Her expression in return is one of sympathy, and she bites down on the fluorescent straw of her drink before answering. " Nothing yet, but I'll call as soon as I get a hit on the blood or hair," she promises, and then only hesitates for a moment before throwing her arms around him once again. Her hugs are always harder since his return from sea – as though she worries if she holds too loosely he will disappear again right from under her nose. " I'll find out who hurt your friend okay? My babies won't let me down, and I won't let you down."

Pulling back, he untangles himself from her arms, and manages a slight smile before stepping towards the exit.

" You never do, Abs."

XxX

That night, when they are finally sent home, Tony can barely stand. As he layslies on the couch and stares at the magnolia ceiling, all of his thoughts are hijacked by visions of Ramona's angular pallid face and echoes of her shaky voice. Even when he tries to ignore these in favour of his preferred and slightly more libidinous imaginings, the images of the young Midshipman win out and he curses loudly into the empty room.

He thinks maybe he would have more success taking his mind off of things if he wasn't alone. He and Ziva had left work together and come back to his apartment - as was their habit - but the minute they had stepped foot into the building, her phone had started to ring, and on answering, she had disappeared into the bedroom, speaking in low, terse whispers. He doesn't even try to eavesdrop – the extent of his Hebrew barely gets past the dirty words.

So he lieslays, shoes kicked off and his tie loosened, and squeezes his eyes shut tight. He considers getting up and taking a shower, or getting the rest of the way undressed, but he can't quite muster the wherewithal to do anything useful. He is just deciding whether his hunger has outweighed his lethargy when his attention is diverted by the familiar sound of soft footfalls exiting the bedroom.

" Ziva?" There is no response, so he calls out again. " Ziva?"

Curiosity piqued, he rolls off the couch and hits the floor with a 'thunk' and a groan, before pulling himself slowly to standing. Brushing his knees, he wanders towards the kitchen where he knows she must be. On entering, he is relieved to see her finally off the phone, but then is thrown by the sight of her cell smashed on the floor in pieces. Her shoulders shake as she stands with her back to him.

" Ziva?"

He crosses the kitchen in three steps, instantly at her side and turning her around with the gentlest of touches. Her shoulders still shake, and as he turns her he sees why – tears are rolling down her cheeks, and her eyes are rimmed with red. His heart begins to race. " What's happened?" He reaches up to touch her face, to run his hands through her hair and over her shoulders, as though to check for some kind of injury that could have happened in the twenty minutes she has been in the bedroom.

But she pulls away from his touch, instead reaching up to wipe the tears angrily away from her cheeks. " There has been another bombing," she says, and her voice radiates anger and exhaustion. " At a synagogue just outside of Jerusalem."

The reason for her hurt is instantly explained, and he rubs the pad of his thumb against the escaping tears. " It was Mariam on the phone?"

She nods, yielding to his touch, tilting her cheek into his palm. " The name of the synagogue was Temple Beth Eloihim," she says, and he knows this should mean something to him by the way she says the words, but it sparks no bells in his memory. She seems to recognise this, and elaborates. " The rabbi at the synagogue is named Raddai Bar-Lev. He is," she stops at the word, correcting herself with a bitter tone, " was an old friend."

" Ziva, I'm sorry."

Pulling back, she moves away to stare out of the window for a second, before slamming the flat of her hand down on the counter. Her eyes begin to well up again. " I have lost friends Tony. I have lost friends, family, lovers. And it is always so senseless." She shakes her head vehemently, as though irritated by her tears. " Raddai and I grew up together. From the time we were six years old he swore we would end up married, but I joined Mossad and he went to Yeshiva, and he hated what I did. He said he prayed for me to see the error in my ways. To be overwhelmed by yetzer hartov." Off of his blank expression she explains, " Man's inclination towards moral actions."

As she stands, she fingers the sharp points of her Star of David. It glints in the pale silver moonlight.

" He would be proud of what you're doing here," Tony assures her in a soft voice, his tone certain even though he has never – and will never – meet this man. He can't think of a transformation that had been quite as stunning as Ziva's – from state-sponsored killer to someone who serves and protects. Of course, she would argue the two as not that different, but Tony knows she still considers her time at NCIS as a kind of atonement.

His attention is brought back to her by the sound of a scoff. " He wished for me to go back home to Israel. He invited me to his wedding and I didn't even open the letter." Tears eke out of the corners of her eyes, fugitives of pain running down her smooth skin. " And God, I hated the girl he married, she had been such a teachers' pet, and now my dislike seems so ridiculous. They were barely married six months. God, I wouldn't wish this on her."

" You wouldn't wish this on anybody." Tony comes up behind her, and wraps his arms around her. He presses a slow, comforting kiss just behind her ear. " I'm sorry about your friend."

Without turning around, she lets out a deep sigh that he can feel run all the way through her body. " I have been away so long - my country is falling apart Tony."

The words are out of his mouth before he even has the chance to think them. " Are you thinking of going back?"

She freezes in his arms, absolutely still, as though she has suddenly been transformed from flesh into ice and marble. It takes a long time for her to speak. Unfolding herself from his arms, she walks purposefully across the room, separating herself from him, and presses the length of her back against the flat, cool wall. Then she glares at him. " Why would you ask me that?"

" Because it sounds like you might," he answers honestly, not moving. " You've been talking about it more than normal."

" They just blew up someone I know Tony, I'm sorry to bring it up." It is her instinct to cover her fear by full offensive, and he watches as her chin lifts in defiance and her eyes flash. " Not all of us can keep such secrets about our friends."

" Hey!" He pushes himself away from the counter and walks up to her so their bodies are almost touching. Frisson radiates between them. " I was trying to keep you out of trouble. Remember, like when you got framed by the Iranians and you didn't call me?"

They have talked about this before, disappointment and righteous indignation vying for dominance as they both stood – Ziva still with bruised eyes and a broken nose, Tony balancing his team leader position on a knife edge in the wake of Gibbs' unexpected return – and watched their summer together fall apart and scatter to the winds. Bringing it up now is a low blow, and they both are aware of it. Jaw clenched, Ziva's eyes are as dark as he has ever seen them. " That was two years ago. Our relationship had just been discovered by Mossad and my Father and I didn't want you to get fired!"

" So you were protecting me?"

" Yes!"

" Exactly!" The sound of his hands slamming against the kitchen wall echoes around the apartment, and is enough to have the neighbours start banging on their own walls with yells for quiet. Though the yelling isn't unusual, the interruption is enough to have him take a deep breath and regain some restraint. " This whole thing with Adler just got out of control. She turned up and - I didn't mean to lie to you Ziva, I'm done doing that. You know I am."

It had been something they had promised one another in the night they came together following Jenny's death, and even now, the words sting and lance the pain, making the grief feel fresh, even though she has been gone for almost half a year. The reel of time itself seems astounding, but it is enough to make Ziva pause, looking repentant. " I know. I do know, I'm sorry." Reaching up, she kneads her temples with her fingers. " I am tired."

Rapidly calming, he smoothes back her hair from her head, dropping a kiss to the centre of her widow's peak. " Let's go to bed," he suggests, and is met with a small, almost timid nod.

The bedroom is dark when they enter, but neither moves to turn on the light, instead just allowing themselves a moment for their eyes to adjust to the shadows. He waits as she peels off her clothes, and then his fingers are lifted to her hair, and he runs them firmly through the tangled curls, relaxing some of the tension that is strung within her. Her head is tilted back, exposing the length of her stretched throat where a pulse beats rapidly. His fingers trail over her cheeks and then her lips, and he follows their path with whispered kisses.

Lacing her up in his arms, they fall onto the bed in a tangle of limbs, sheets and memories. Moving his mouth the whole length of her body, he pours apologies into his kisses and sympathy into his touch. As they move together he allows hope to shine through his eyes. Her expression is ineffable.

After, while his brain is still hazy, she turns over onto her side and traces his face. Her fingers are soft and her touch like silk. Her voice is low and whispering, like smoke about to dissolve into the air. " When I left Israel and came here, I was running away from many things."

He blinks heavily, watching as her chocolate curls tumble over her naked shoulder. He forces himself to concentrate. " Your father?"

" Among others," she answers cryptically, and he has known her long enough not to press for clarification. " I was running, and when I was diverted in Russia" – this is the phrase they use to describe their time apart. 'Diverted in Russia' is her way of saying 'almost dying on a mission gone bad', just as his 'At Sea' is code for 'going crazy in the Mediterranean'. " And I saw Mariam, it made me remember all the people I had left behind. I had tried to pretend that they no longer existed, because it made it easier to forget them. But they do exist Tony, and I am trying to find a way to move on and also find a way to show them that I remember."

" But you're not going back?" His words are slurred slightly with sleep, but honest and worried, and she smoothes back his hair as she answers.

" I am here until you get tired of me."

Drooping eyes and a crooked smile accompany his words as he slips into sleep.

" Could never get tired of you…"


	5. Purple haze, southern rose

The next morning, having slept properly for the first time in three days, Tony sits in the squad room and stares at his compute

The next morning, having slept properly for the first time in three days, Tony sits in the squad room and stares at his computer, his fingers steepled under his chin. Now he has reached detente with Ziva, he allows himself to concentrate fully on the case at hand, and so in his mind he runs through the events of that night, trying to find a new avenue, a new route that they have not yet covered.

" McGee, did you check the security cameras?" he asks, finally, and his words seem to almost startle the other agent, as though he has forgotten that Tony is even there. He too has been staring at his computer all morning, running through programs and algorithms to try and find them any clues. Tony knows that he ran out of coffee almost a half hour ago.

Tapping on his computer, McGee nods, rolling on his chair and grabbing the remote to the plasma in one swift movement. Clicking it on, the screen is flooded with a large, black and white image of the Personnel office at Norfolk. " Cameras record everyone working in Personnel during the day, but they only cover the halls, and not Ryan's office." Pointing to the corner of the screen, he explains, " The only view we get of the office door is down here." Clicking the remote again, McGee and Tony watch as people zip across the screen, some carrying files, some stopping to chat, and one particularly unlucky person tripping over in the middle of the carpet.

" Wipe-out," Tony can't help but mutter, and then asks McGee, " Can you take it up to seven o'clockseven o'clock, see what we've got?"

Nodding, McGee clicks the remote again, and then stills the image for a moment. " At two minutes after seven, we can see Commander Ryan sending home his secretary."

" Jayne Dawson," Tony acknowledges, but can't help staring at the image of the Commander, who looks a far cry from the ailing person he has only caught glimpses of in the hospital bed. Over six feet tall, heavily built, with close-cropped salt-and-pepper hair, Commander Ryan looks every bit the gracefully aging Naval officer as he speaks with the dumpy, raven-haired secretary.

Tony watches as Jayne Dawson collects up her things and bids good night to the Commander. Even with the lack of sound, Tony can practically hear the simpering tones.

Continuing with the film on double speed, both men watch as the Commander disappears into his office for a few moments before exiting again. " He uses the phone on his secretary's desk and has a short conversation with someone before disappearing off-screen again," McGee explains, somewhat needlessly, as Tony is watching the same footage.

Another ten minutes in film-time elapses before McGee hits pause again. Allowing himself only a brief glance at Tony, he clears his throat with a slight cough. " This is, uh, where we first see Midshipman Adler." This too is needless, because Tony would recognise the way the beige uniform hung on her bony frame, and the swinging of the sensible, mousy-blonde ponytail anywhere. " She goes into the office and then she and Commander Ryan go in and out for about twenty minutes, collecting up files."

They zoom through the film, and Tony watches as Ramona in triple-time wends her way in and out, disappearing into the corner of the screen. The clock ticks past eight in the footage. " She called me at about half tenten thirty," Tony discloses, " And she had already made it to DC by then."

" Yeah, I know," McGee admits, guilt clearly evident in his voice. " Boss had me check your phone records." Avoiding looking at the Senior Field Agent, McGee instead focuses on the screen. " They both stay out of shot until about half eighteight thirty. Then this happens."

The image stills, and Tony can't help but gawk. In the corner of the screen, Midshipman Adler is frozen exiting the room, one hand clutched to her face. Even in black and white, they can recognise the blood that trickles from her face and down her skinny arms, and the fear in her expression.

When McGee speaks again, it is almost apologetic. " We don't get a clear shot of the office after she leaves. And there's no sign of anyone else entering or exiting."

Sinking into his desk chair, Tony continues to stare. Panic and anger war within him, each trying to vie for dominance as he studies the image of his friend.

He doesn't have time to wait for a victor, as before the battle has a chance to finish, Ziva and Gibbs stride into the bullpen, seemingly back from interrogation. " Gear up," Gibbs orders, stopping briefly at his desk to collect his weapon and his keys. " We're going to Bethesda."

Tony's stomach sinks. " Ryan's dead boss?"

Though he stares at Gibbs, it is Ziva who answers, and her eyes flicker between him and the startlingly graphic image still frozen on screen. " No," she states, and something almost like assurance tinges her words.

" He's awake."

XxX

" She attacked me!"

When they reach the hospital, Ryan is sitting upright in bed, his wife standing dutifully beside him like an ineffectual rag-doll, and save the bandage wrapped around his shaven head, there is no obvious sign that the man has just woken up out of a coma. The clean, scratchy white sheets are pulled up to his waist, and his body seems lithe and powerful beneath them, coiled and ready to strike.

Certainly his volume has not been impeded by his injury, Tony notes as they enter the room, and Ryan begins shouting almost as soon as they have introduced themselves. " Attacking a Senior Officer – I'll have her court marshalled for this! Dishonourable discharge!" he bellows, and it's all Tony can do not to flinch at the sound.

In the back of the room, Ziva leans against the wall, watching the Commander and his wife with purposeful calmness. Tony recognises the look – she is studying him intently, finding flaws and traits that he probably wouldn't even know he himself had.

Gibbs too is calm despite the heady ire. " Do you know why Midshipman Adler attacked you Commander?" he asksed, pencil paused over his notebook and an incongruously polite expression on his face.

As he watches, Tony sees the Commander's eyes flicker from Gibbs to his wife, only briefly, but then he wonders if he has imagined it, because Ryan's voice is just as forthright as before. " Look, I stayed late at work so I could talk to the girl," he begins explaining, and then crosses his arms over his chest. " She'd already been done in for it once, and I knew she was up to no good again."

" 'Done in for it'?" Gibbs repeats, echoing the question that Tony silently asked in his own head. For an instant, he is very sick of Virginia accents.

The look on Ryan's face is incredulous. " You mean you've been questioning this girl for two days and you didn't find out why she got kicked off The Reagan?" His voice is tinged with elation at being the barer of such news. " Fraternization! She was caught having it away with some of the crew on her last posting and got caught. Sent back State side to get some perspective. Then last week I start hearing scuttlebutt about her and another Officer." Shrugging, as though almost uninterested by his own story, Ryan continues, " I wanted to bring it up with her, give her a chance to explain. I was giving her the benefit of the doubt see? But as soon as I mention it, girl goes rabid. Starts attacking me. I tried holding her off, but she clocked me on the head with something hard. I – I don't remember anything else."

As he finishes speaking, Gibbs shoots Tony a look that he can read well – it's a 'did you know anything about this' look, and it has Tony shaking his head almost imperceptibly.

They leave the Commander's wife fussing over him as they troop out and silently slide into their waiting car.

XxX

" Bad news Gibbs!"

Abby looks stricken as they enter her lab. She and McGee stand side-by-side, both tapping away at computers with a pace that is beyond frenetic. Abby is surrounded by no less than four empty Caf-Pow cups, and pulling her hands away from the keyboard, she spins around as a page of results pop up on the screen. " The blood and the hair from the crime scene came back as a match to Midshipman Adler. There's no evidence that anyone else was in the room." Her eyes are wide and round, and when Gibbs leans forward to squint at the screen she mouths 'I'm sorry' to Tony over his shoulder.

The bad news is further compounded when McGee begins to speak. " Ryan wasn't lying about the fraternization either." Pulling up her file, he reads some of the details, and Tony can't help but clench his jaw and turn away slightly. He doesn't need to read this sucker-punch news for himself. " The Midshipman was written up for fraternization two months ago, right before her reassignment to Norfolk. Her CO on The Reagan decided not to put it in her record as an official reprimand, but it's noted as a warning." Tapping away, McGee continues reading the streaming text. " Apparently she was involved with a Lieutenant Nick Wilson. He's a pilot, based on The Reagan."

Gibbs points a finger at Tony. " You didn't know about this?" he reiterates, his tone verging on anger.

Tony is quick to shake his head, pulling at the collar of his shirt. " I didn't Boss. She didn't mention anything about it."

" You know I can have McGee hack your email."

" I swear, Boss."

This seems to be good enough for Gibbs, who finally, slowly, nods his head. " Ryan busts her for fraternization for the second time in three months. Tells her he's going to write her up. Rather than suffer the humiliation of a dishonourable discharge, she attacks him."

Even as he says the words, they don't quite seem to ring true, and though Abby and McGee look perturbed, Tony is the first to voice his discomfort with the theory. " Adler wouldn't do it like this Boss. If she did something wrong she'd own up – she's too blunt to do anything else. She wouldn't attack him."

Gibbs stares at him for a long minute before asking, " She ever threatened you with physical violence DiNozzo?"

Tony curses himself even as he answers, " Yeah."

" More than once?"

" Yeah."

Turning to Abby and McGee, Gibbs opens his arms in a welcoming gesture. " There any evidence, any at all, that puts another person in that room?"

McGee shakes his head, as Abby voices the answer. " None. I'm really sorry Tony."

Nodding, Tony sighs and stares down at his shoes. He can't believe Adler would have done something so rash, so stupid. His brain aches at the thought of her beating the Commander over the head, just to try and get out of trouble. The idea is like a piece of a puzzle that isn't cut right – it doesn't want to fit.

As Gibbs brushes past, about to leave, he pauses next to his Senior Field Agent. " What does your gut tell you?" he asks, his voice low and barely audible over the thrumming electro beat of Abby's music. Tony knows the question is for his ears alone. As he stands, he considers it – really considers it – before answering.

Lifting his head up, Tony stares the older man dead in the eye, and can almost see his own image reflected back in the dark pupils. " We're missing something Boss," he finally voices, sounding definite.

" Then go find it out."

XxX

" Who's Nick Wilson?"

Ramona's owl-like, shadow-rimmed eyes widen as Tony enters interrogation, shutting the door behind him with a soft click. She has been sitting there for countless hours now, but has barely moved from the uncomfortable plastic chair. The only thing different is the small glass of half-drunk water on the table. Tony doesn't move to sit down, but leans his back against the wall.

She clears her throat, dipping her little finger in the glass of water, watching the ripples grow and ebb across the surface of the liquid. " He's a friend."

Tony's laugh is harsh and almost mocking. " Adler, you really think I don't already know that that's a lie?"

" Then why bother askin'?" She snaps, more forthright with him than with anyone else, and crosses her arms over her chest, frowning deeply. Her tone is brusque and frustrated, and she doesn't meet his eyes.

Stepping towards her, he cocks an eyebrow. " I was giving you a chance to tell the truth." Instead of sitting across the desk from her, he lifts the chair so it is on the same side as she sits, and drops himself into it.

Reaching up, she smoothes a piece of escaping hair back from her pale face, and leans towards him. Her voice drops to a barely audible level and she speaks slowly and clearly. " You know who he is. Lieutenant Nick Wilson. Pilot. I met him the week you left The Reagan," she admits. Then, for the first time in days, a smile flickers across her face, and she suddenly looks so much more the Adler he remembers: cocky, assured, hopeful. The flash of her happiness is like a punch to the face for him. " You'd like Nick," she can't help but suggest, and for a moment Tony wishes he could warn her that they are being watched behind the two-way mirror, but he keeps his mouth closed. " He's an officer and stuff, but he's a complete nerd. He's got a red Ferrari at home waitin' for him to fix up," she laughs softly. " Just like Magnum."

" Good taste," Tony replies, smiling weakly, and then forces himself to ask, " You slept with him?"

Staring down at her hands, she nods her head slowly. " I know I shouldn't have. We both knew we shouldn't. But we met, and we started talkin' all the time and…" Tilting her head up, she finally meets his gaze. " I think I might love him." Then, shaking herself, she presses the heels of her hands to her face, Tony suspects to stifle the tears that he sees shimmering in her pale eyes. " We ended it within a month. We both knew it was wrong, so we ended it. We didn't realise anyone had found out." Her voice is very soft.

Reaching out, Tony lays a hand on her shoulder. " Your CO?"

Biting her lip, she nods again. " Someone had told him 'bout it. He brought me into his office, told me that he'd been informed. I was so scared," she admits, her voice heartbreakingly honest. " I thought I was gonna' get court marshalled, and all I could think about was my father and my grandfather. 'Bout havin' to tell them what happened. I'd have to tell my grandfather, who served two tours in Vietnam, and my father who served 30 years and already lost his son, that not only was I bein' dishonourably discharged from this Navy that they hold so dear, but that I was bein' dishonourably discharged for bein' a whore? I didn't know if I could tell him that." Choking slightly on brimming tears, she forces a smile on her trembling lips. " But then my CO said he weren't goin' through official channels. He said I was real young, and sometimes young people make mistakes. He said he was gonna' give me another chance." Rubbing the side of her eyes, she looks very weary for a moment. " But he said I'd have to leave The Reagan."

Tony sits for a beat, staring at her, taking in her pale eyes, and colourless face and tiny body swamped in oversized clothing. The badge of 'young and foolish' seems to have never been more fitting. " And then you let it happen again?" he asks, incredulous, and he knows disappointment is painted vivid and stark in voice.

But at his words, she looks up, frowning. " What?"

" You got reassigned to Norfolk. Met someone else." He watches her reaction, expecting to see evasion and shame, and so is surprised by the confusion that is stark on her face.

" I didn't meet no one else," she says, shaking her head. " I just told you I was in love with Nick. Just 'cause I left him don't mean I turned that off." Brushing imagined lint off of the knees of the baggy grey sweatpants, she looks up at him, and her voice is very small. " Why'd you think that?"

But it is not Tony that answers. Instead, the door opens again, and Gibbs' voice fills the small room. " Commander Ryan said he was going to turn you in on your second fraternization charge in three months. You attacked him."

At the words, at the definite, accusatory words, she looks panicky, and her voice takes on a desperate quality, aiming at Tony though he can no longer meet her eye. "That's not how it happened," she pleads, and her voice reaches out for him even though her arms stay firmly at her sides, as though bracing her body for a blow. " I'm tellin' the truth, Tony I swear I am, that's not how it happened."

" But you did attack him?"

" I had to!" The admission comes suddenly, and shoots out from between her lips so fast that both men are almost caught off guard.

Gibbs' voice is weary, and Tony is surprised by the slight tone of disappointment he can hear. " Because he was going to turn you in?"

Tears are now coursing down Ramona's cheeks, but she doesn't move to wipe them away. Instead, she just stares at both men. " He found out about Nick. And…I don't know. I guess he thought that made me an easy mark." Her words take on a bitter, exhausted tone, and her shoulders heave with stifled sobs. " I told you I didn't see him come in. I told you I didn't recognise him that night. He was so different. He knew 'bout what happened before, I guess he thought he could make it happen again. He attacked me because I said no, and I couldn't make him stop!"

She is almost shouting by the end, and when she finishes, she finally dissolves, like a sand castle in the rain. Tears cascade down her face and she lifts her hands, pressing her palms against her eyes as though in an attempt to hide from the two pairs of accusatory male eyes. As she does, the sleeves of the overlarge sweatshirt slip down her arms, and for the first time, Tony catches sight of the purple-blue bruises around her wrists.

The two men look at each other, practically dumbfounded for a beat before they move. Prising Ramona's hands away from her face, Tony pushes her sleeves back to get a better look at the bruising. From the way it rings around her arms, it screams testimony to a brutal grip. " Why didn't you tell me?" he asks, and for a moment all proprietary sense of 'Special Agent' is dropped, and he is simply Tony, her friend.

" I tried," she hiccups.

After a long silence, Gibbs finally speaks, and when he does his tone is soft. " Take her down to Ducky," he orders, watching as Tony helps the small woman up from her chair, looping a protective arm around her shoulders, looking more paternal than he ever has. " Have him check her out."

Tony nods in reply, and doesn't hesitate before exiting the room. Left alone, no one is present to see Gibbs slump into the chair and rest his head in his hands. He stays there, paused and unnaturally still for a long moment before slamming his hand down on the desk hard enough that the sound rings around the room. Then he stands up so fast the chair tips over, and without bothering to pick it up, he strides from the room, slamming the door shut behind him.


	6. Atonement

" I once knew a girl named Ramona

" I once knew a girl named Ramona. Ramona Kincaid, oh and she was a blonde just like you. Hair all the way down her spine, like spun gold. I once travelled five hours on a bus to watch her play in a girls- only field hockey match against Aberdeen, only to find when I got there the match had been rained off. Of course, I was out of money by this point, and so I had to find someway to get back to Edinburgh…Ah, well then, up on the table my dear, if you're ready."

Nodding her head, Ramona is helped up onto the sterile, ice-cold table by Ziva, who then remains standing next to her. After leaving the interrogation room with Ramona, Tony had found Ziva, and after a rushed, whispered conversation, he had left the two women alone. Since then, Ziva hads remained by Ramona's side, like a silent sentinel, unmoving and unwavering in her protection. Ducky bustles around autopsy, laying a towel on the metal table in an attempt to make it slightly more comfortable on the girl's battered body. " Just sit back there now and let's have a look at you."

Ramona shivers in the cool room – she has removed the sweatshirt and the sweatpants, and so sits in simply underwear and a faded tank top. She folds her arms across her body – ashamed, abashed, embarrassed, both by her near-nakedness and by the assorted bruises that mar her skin.

The most obvious is the bruise on her hip, a mottled mix of black and purple that swirls around the protruding bone. " My dear, what happened here?" Ducky asks as he examines her, keeping his tone and his touch purposefully light.

" Pushed against the desk," she replies softly, pulling the edge of her waistband down to show the full extent of the injury. There is another bruise on her lower back that is smaller, but more red and angry looking. " This one too. And I hit my head when he pushed me up 'gainst the bookcase. Made my nose bleed was so hard." She mimics the action with a hand under her chin, and doesn't miss the way the eyes of the doctor shadow.

Without a word, Ziva picks up the camera and begins taking pictures, and Ramona doesn't argue. She knows what these kinds of images are for. Instead, she just hangs her head and winces against the bright flash of light.

As Ducky catalogues all her bruises, from the indigo finger-shaped marks on her upper arms to the blossoming magenta on her kneecaps, Ziva does not say a word. Even when Ducky presses down on Ramona's tender cheekbone, drawing a flinch and a ribald curse, and carefully examines her painful, twisted wrist, Ziva says nothing. Only when Ducky finally leaves the room to allow Ramona the privacy to redress does Ziva finally speak.

" I am sorry," she says, and though the words are cliché, the sincerity behind them isn't.

Ramona, being Ramona, simply shrugs as she steps back into the oversized pants, pulling and knotting the drawstring tight to keep them up. " You didn't do anythin' wrong," she replies sensibly, but then looks up at the other woman. Her eyes soften. " I appreciate it though."

" Did he actually…" Ziva trails off, unable to say the words, even though she has seen and been party to many worse horrors in her life. Looking at the small blonde dressed in her – partner's? boyfriend's? – clothes, the words seem far too crass to speak out loud.

She is inordinately relieved when Adler shakes her head. " Nope. But he was gonna', no question of a lie." Not bothering to put the sweatshirt back on, but folding it and hugging it tight against her body, Ramona chews on her bottom lip, making the skin there turn scarlet. " But honest, I didn't mean to hurt him when I hit him. I just wanted him to stop."

Coming behind the other woman, Ziva helps her do up the clasp to the dangling silver cross she wears at her throat. " What did you hit him with?" she asks, her chest pressed up against the other woman's back, and her murmured question tickling Adler's ear.

" Long-armed stapler," Ramona admits, her fingers tracing the outline of the necklace absentmindedly. " When we was fightin' I knocked it off the desk. Then he pushed me down on the floor…it was the first thing I grabbed. I didn't even think."

Ziva's only response is to nod, and there is silence as Ramona finishes dressing. Then, finally, she turns and studies the other woman. Though they had met briefly some months ago in Barcelona - the day Tony had jubilantly packed up his things and left the ship with a tight hug but barely a glance back - it had really been through Tony's emails and phone calls that she had got a sense of who Ziva was. Because of that, it is interesting to see her now, once again in the flesh. Ramona is surprised to feel a little nervous. " I'm sorry if I got either of you in trouble," she apologises, and her voice is hesitant. " I just didn't know where else to go for help 'cept Tony."

" He owed you," Ziva says, and it lingers somewhere between a question and a statement.

In the cold of the autopsy room, Ramona shivers, and tries not to think too hard about the things that are behind the steel silver doors. " No. I just know I can trust him."

" He says he owes you," Ziva admits, lacing her hands behind her back in an effort not to give too much away with her body language. A strange little part of her is almost jealous that Adler had been witness to three months of Tony's life that she had been forced to miss. " That you saved his life while he was away at sea."

At these words, Ramona scoffs a shallow laugh. " He saved himself," she argues, and then stares at the older woman for long enough that it makes Ziva slightly uncomfortable. " You know, he didn't give up on you, even when you'd been missin' so long? I don't know if he's told you, but he loves you somethin' stupid. I reckon he'd give up Magnum, pizza and Italian loafers to make you smile."

Ziva can't help but smile at this assertion, and nods her head. " He has told me."

" Good. Then he ain't as stupid as he acts."

XxX

At the same time, while the women are speaking of things far more to do with hope than pain, McGee, Tony and Gibbs pull their car up to the front of the hospital. After a brief cell-phone conversation with Ducky, they reach their destination in record time, but for once, no one comments on Gibbs' unique style of driving. In fact, against character, Tony has barely said two words during the whole journey, and now, as he reaches to open the car door, Gibbs stops him with a hand to the shoulder.

" I don't have to tell you not to do anything stupid do I?" he asks, eyeing his Agent with intense scrutiny. The growing wind buffers the car, though the sun shines down through the windshield.

He knows he is not far off the mark when Tony stills for a second, and his shoulders, which have been tense ever since leaving the Navy Yard, relax just slightly. " Following your lead Boss," is all he says, but Gibbs' knows this is a sign of relenting. He just hopes the moment of calm will last through to when they see Commander Ryan's face.

Tony barely has time to register the sickening antiseptic smell and cloying blandness that usually irks him about hospitals. Instead, his mind is full of only one thing – Ramona, bruised and frightened and forthright – and he is sick that this man has made her cry. He is also slightly sick of himself that it took him so long to see the truth, but he pushes that feeling deep, deep down. He knows he will deal with that later.

When they enter his private room, Ryan, sitting up and absent of his lucklack-lustre wife, looks almost giddy. " Did you arrest the girl then? Assault, battery, attempted murder?"

Gibbs stands firm next to Tony, an unspoken order for him to keep his mouth shut, and answers the question himself. " Nope."

Ryan's face instantly drops. " No? That girl hit me round the head – she could have killed me! I was in a coma for two days!" His words sound so frank that Tony has to clench his fists at his sides. He is grateful when he feels McGee step up to his other side – tacit solidarity in his peripheral vision.

" We don't arrest people for self defence," Gibbs replies, his voice very low, but thick and dangerous in tone. Tony knows if he were on the receiving end of that tone, he would be afraid, but Ryan doesn't seem to recognise the minefield he is walking into.

" Self defence!?" he scoffs, and his cheeks begin to turn ruddy. The heart monitor he is attached to quickens its beeping. " Is that what that silly bitch told you?"

It is the use of such venom when talking about Ramona that finally causes Tony to snap. Stepping forward without even thinking, he gets right into Ryan's face, ignoring the overlapping calls of protest from Gibbs and McGee. "You pushed her and held her down. Hit her head hard enough to make her nose bleed," he shouts, but Ryan even now doesn't back down.

" She attacked me," he argues just as vocally. " I was just defending myself."

By now Tony is right in his face, so Ryan can feel every word as breath on his skin. Bracing his arms either side of the bed, Tony whispers, venomously, " She weighs 105lbs! You gave her a concussion and nearly broke her wrist. You tried to rape her you bastard."

Once he has spat the words, he allows Gibbs to pull him back, pushing him with unbridled force out of the room. He knows he will get in trouble for his outburst, knows he will probably be head-slapped until he can't see straight, but as he watches McGee step towards the Commander's bed, cuffs in hand, he can't find it in him to care. He knows it is worth it.

" Commander Charles Ryan, you're under arrest for the attempted sexual assault of Midshipman Ramona Adler. You have the right to remain silent, but anything you do say now could be used against you in a court of law."

XxX

The sun shines down on the reflecting pool, though being staunchly October, the wind is still crisp, and Tony wraps his hands around the warm cups of coffee as he wends his way down the stairs. Sitting down on the cool concrete, he holds one of the cups out, and the person who takes it wraps her gloved fingers around just as quickly.

" Thanks."

It has been a week since Commander Ryan's arrest, and for the most part, Adler's bruises are faded and gone. But as she sits next to Tony in a long coat, jeans and battered sneakers, he knows that less visible wounds won't disappear quite as quickly.

He scoots closer to her, pressing their bodies together from shoulder to knee in order to keep the heat in. " It's freezing out here," he grumbles, taking a sip of his coffee, and is relieved when it draws a laugh.

" This was your idea," she reminds him, wagging a finger in his direction, her voice gloriously bossy in a way that makes him unable to stifle a smile. " I believe your exact phrase was 'I like the view'."

" It's a great view," he agrees, staring out over the water. The wintery sun shimmers on the top, and he draws his coat tighter around his body, but stops complaining. " So…" he begins, but then finds himself pausing. Though he had been the one to suggest that they meet, all words seem to have failed him now.

She seems to recognise this though, and takes a long sip of her drink before nodding her head. " So," she agrees with an amused smile. " You wanted to check up on me?"

" I wanted to know you were okay," he admits, his breath puffing little clouds of steam into the open air. " And I…I wanted to say sorry." The apology comes after a week of self-recrimination, of stomping around the apartment, snapping at anyone who got in his way and enough head-slaps that he wonders if he's going bald on the crown of his head.

Reaching out, she rests a hand on his forearm, and it's comforting and warm. " You don't have to say sorry," she promises, and her tone is so straightforward that he starts to feel a little better. " You didn't hurt me. You came when I called. You looked after me. You caught the bad guy." She shrugs her shoulders. " What more could a girl ask for?"

He knows he shouldn't say anything;, that he should just be grateful of her acceptance and move on. But the words trip off his tongue before he can rein them in. " I didn't believe you."

" Yes, you did." Her voice is almost surprised, but leaves no room for arguing. " I know you had to follow the evidence, and investigate – of course you did. That's your job Tony. But don't tell me for a moment that you stopped believing me, 'cause that's a lie and we both know it."

" How do you know?"

" I know you." The words are simple, but the warmth they spread across his chest is unparalleled. He wonders almost if he is blushing. " I know you, and I saw your face. You knew I wasn't like that, and even when you were questionin' me, I knew it weren't 'cause you stopped trustin' me. You just had to find out the truth. I admire that about you," she finishes with a shrug as she looks up at him, and her strange pale eyes are wide, and open, and honest.

He is struck silent for what seems like a whole hour, but in truth is less than a minute as he digests everything she's said. It's a new feeling, to have someone who trusts him so easily and fully. Everyone else he has that level of trust from he has had to earn it over years of stumbled mistakes and clumsy apologies. " So what happens now?"

Leaning forward, she rests her elbows on her rough-denim covered knees, holding her coffee cup between her two woollen palms. " I'm leavin' Norfolk. Too much talk. Movin' up to the District." She looks back at him over her shoulder. " There's a position goin' in the Naval Finance Office, out in Arlington. They're bad in need of an office manager, and with my organisational skills, they say I'm a shoe in."

" So you'll be close by?" he asks, mimicking her position and nudging her with his elbow.

She nudges him back with a smile. " Close enough that you can help me lug my boxes up the stairs to my new apartment," she teases, and he is beyond relieved to see the sparkle in her eyes.

Mock-wincing, he rubs at his knee. " Did I not tell you about my old football injury?" he begins, but is cut off by a sharp swat to the leg and a laugh.

" Can it, Very Special Agent."

They both sit, smiles creeping over their lips as they stare out over the water. Tourists and politicos meander by, and the strong smell of coffee wafts around them even as they people watch. Tony is not sure how long they have sat in companionable silence when Ramona speaks again.

" Nick's not re-upping in January. He's already got a commercial job lined up, teachin' out in Fairfax."

The relating of this news is almost off-hand, but it makes Tony turn his head sharply to look at her. " You've spoken to him?"

She nods her head, still staring straight forward. " I wrote him after you arrested Ryan. Told him what'd happened. Said it weren't his fault and I was sorry any trouble I caused him."

" Adler - "

" He wrote back, said he understood, and he was sorry for what had happened with Ryan, but he weren't sorry 'bout what had happened 'tween the two of us." Her voice is small but strong, and without a trace of shame. " That's when he told me 'bout getting out after the holiday." Turning her head, she finally looks at Tony. " We're gonna try and make it work," she admits.

For a moment, Tony is torn between two emotions – concern for her, or happiness for her. In the end, he surrenders to the latter, and wraps an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close into his side. " Good for you," is all he says as he squeezes her gently.

" So when you back at work?" The change of subject is seamless and gentle, and she looks up at him from her place by his shoulder.

He scoffs his answer. " Monday. Apparently a week-long suspension was enough to keep the peace with the new Director. Makes me wish I had actually hit the guy, then it would have been worth it."

Leaning up, she presses a chaste kiss against his stubbly cheek. " Thank you for getting suspended for me." There is barely-hidden teasing in her tone, and she bounces the heels of her sneaker-clad feet on the steps.

He cannot stop himself reaching up and mussing her hair. Over her squawked protest, he promises, " I'd do it again."

" I know." There is another pause, then, " How's Ziva?"

The teasing, gossipy tone is put on, and he roles his eyes in response, to keep up the charade. " Fine. Good. Wonderful," he begins with a laugh, and then adds, " She's at Temple, or she would have come."

" Temple?"

" Synagogue. It's Yom Kippur," he shrugs, recalling Ziva's explanation as she searched through his wardrobe for shoes of hers that were not leather that she could wear with her dress. Her skin had looked tanned and tempting against the white material. " Day of Atonement. So she's gone to atone."

Looking up, Ramona's expression is almost unreadable. " Is that what you're here for?"

The question rings around his head, and he can feel it in his body, trickling down his fingers and into his toes. Is that why he came here? For atonement, for forgiveness? To somehow rinse away all his wrong-doing from the year? " I don't know," he answers honestly. " I think it might have been when I got here. I'm not so sure now."

Adler stands, unwinding her body gracefully until she is stretched to her full height. Then, leaning down, she places a kiss to the top of his head, a strikingly innocent benediction, and for a moment, the two of them seem perfectly alone, even against the throng. Standing straight, she beams down at him. " Go home," she orders, and he realises how much he has missed that tone. " Go meet Ziva when she gets back. Tell her you love her."

Without giving him time to respond, she takes off up the steps, skipping them two at a time, before disappearing into the crowd with a wave. He stares after her for a long time.

Tony remains sitting until the sun goes down. Then, when everything is dark and quiet, he makes his way home, and does what he's told.

It may not be benediction, but as warm lips press against his, he can't quite find it within him to complain, and as he is spirited away by dreams and a small, warm hand slides into his, he realises, somehow, for whatever wrongs he has committed, he has already been forgiven.


End file.
